


City of sins

by julestales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Bittersweet, Eventual Smut, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Infidelity, Post Epilogue, Slightly Romantic, head auror harry, trip in Paris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julestales/pseuds/julestales
Summary: “We can never tell anyone...” she whispered as Harry pinned her against the cold window.“This belongs to us, only us...” he confirmed, tugging at her bathrobe belt.





	City of sins

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I published this story on ff a few months ago, this is a slighly smuttier version. Unbeta'd, sorry.  
Thi story is epilogue compliant. Late March 2016. Harry and Hermione leave their beloved spouses behind for a two-days work seminar in Paris, at the French Ministry of Magic. Something slowly shifts between them. Affair fic. Harry Potter is not mine.

_Late March 2018_

“I still don’t get why you want to travel the muggle way to get there” said Ron, rolling his eyes in disbelief.  
“Because, it will be fun!” answered Harry cheerfully, zipping his traveling bag close.  
Harry, along with 14 other Heads of Departments of the Ministry of Magic had been invited to Paris for a two days seminar on international collaboration. Conferences and Workshops were scheduled.  
British and French organizers of the event had offered the option to travel by plane in an attempt to draw awareness amongst wizards to the muggle way of living.  
Harry had jumped at the chance and Hermione, who had flown regularly with her parents, was happy to accompany him for his first flight.  
They had both received their formal invitations by the french Ministry weeks ago.  
The refined silver and golden stationary card was in Ginny’s hands.  
“Oh guys... That hotel looks amazing... There’s even a swimming pool!” she said, eyeing the pictures dreamily, her voice betraying a slight enviousness.  
Harry smiled at his wife.  
“Next time we’ll go together” he told her quietly, leaning his shoulder affectionately against hers. She winked at him and kissed his cheek.  
Despite the early hour, Lily and Hugo were happily chasing each other in the living room.  
“Ready to fly Harry?” asked Hermione with an amused smile.  
“Always” he grinned back.  
Harry grabbed his bag, kissed his wife and saw Ron hug Hermione and whisper something in her ear that made her blush slightly and roll her eyes at him.  
The cab was waiting in front of the house. Lily ran to her father for a last hug.  
“I’ll be back tomorrow night, sweety” Harry told his daughter.  
Once they were settled in the cab, Hermione opened the car window to wave at Hugo.  
“Hermione! Don’t forget to bring me some macrons!” Ron shouted excitedly from the porch.  
Hermione chuckled. “Macarons!” she corrected.  
Ginny blew a kiss to Harry before closing the door and no doubt going back to bed.  
Once the cab was driving them through London, Hermione leaned her head back comfortably, closed her eyes and let out a relaxed sigh.  
It took them over an hour to get to the airport in the traffic. Hermione was talking excitedly about Paris and all the places she wanted to visit.  
“And of course, we must go to the Louvre after the conference”  
“Blimey Hermione, there’s only one afternoon to do any sightseeing, don’t get too excited” said Harry, suppressing a grin.

Harry had never travelled by plane before. He had been delighted at the idea. He simply loved flying. Surely he would love the plane too. Unsurprisingly, none of the other Heads of Departments had chosen to travel this way. 

The airport was a very busy place. Harry did not know where to look.  
Hundreds of muggles carrying suitcases were crossing a hall bigger than the Atrium, barely avoiding collisions. Bright screens with flight schedules were hanging from the ceiling. The buzz of the crowd was nearly deafening.  
Hermione was watching Harry out of the corner of her eye, amused at his eagerness to see everything.  
She took care of discreetly confunding the staff when asked for their ID’s and they walked toward the security check together.  
Harry was slightly surprised when the iron gate he was passing through started beeping loudly.  
The security agent asked him to remove his belt and go back through the gate. Hermione was grinning at his bemused face from the other side.  
“I can’t keep my belt but I can keep my wand” mumbled Harry, rolling his eyes, once he was authorized to join Hermione.  
At last it was time to board the plane. It was much bigger inside than Harry had expected. They found their row, Hermione offering her window seat to Harry so he could fully enjoy his first flight. He was starting to have second thoughts about that whole idea though. There was nothing he could do from his seat, crammed between the window and Hermione. He didn’t much like the idea of having no control over his flying. Hermione was comfortably reading next to him, untroubled.  
“I told you it was nothing like brooms” she said as if she had read his mind.  
By the time the plane started on the track, Harry was starting to feel quite anxious. His hands were sweaty, he wished he had packed his broom, just in case.  
He felt a soft hand gently squeeze his and glanced at Hermione. She seemed amused but sympathetic. He smiled gratefully and kept her hand in his while the plane took off.  
Once they were up, Harry felt much more relaxed. The sky was bright blue above the clouds. The plane did look stable in the air. He finally freed Hermione’s hand and sighed deeply. He felt slightly ashamed by his anxiety.  
“Don’t tell Ron about that. I told him flying would be great. I’d never hear the end of it” he said.  
Hermione chuckled next to him and he grinned at her.  
The rest of the trip went well and Harry barely cringed when the plane landed.  
Once in the cab that would drive them to Paris, Hermione took out her program again.  
“We’re supposed to be at the Ministry by 10 for the guided tour. Then we’ll have lunch with everyone else. The conference starts at 14 until 16 and then we have free time for the rest of the day.” she explained.  
“We won’t have time to go to the hotel first” said Harry, looking at his watch.  
The streets of Paris were now scrolling through the cab windows. They both looked excitedly outside as Hermione was telling Harry about the Pont Alexandre III and his four huge golden statues. The musée d’Orsay whose ceiling was an enormous glass Cupola. They even got a glimpse of the gigantic Eiffel Tower before the cab stopped.  
The driver asked for payment in rapid, impatient french and Hermione handed him a few Euro bills.  
“This is it, Place de Furstemberg” she said once the cab had left. “The Wallace Fountain must be at the center”. She led Harry towards a very simple stone fountain surrounded by four magnificent ancient trees. Their invitation indicated they had to lean against the fountain to become invisible and activate the lift.  
Sure enough, Harry and Hermione had barely touched the stone when they felt their bodies being sucked through a damp gate. The lift was beautiful. Made of black iron, it was steered by the thick roots of the four ancient trees above.  
They were both stunned into silence while they descended.  
“Bienvenue au Ministère de la Magie!” said a pretty witch with a soft voice at the welcoming area. “Comment puis-je vous aider?”  
Hermione cleared her throat.  
“Oui, bonjour, nous venons de Londres” she said, with a slight english accent.  
“Oh biensur! Vos noms?” asked the welcome witch.  
“Hermione Granger et Harry Potter”  
The french witch did a double take when she heard Harry’s name and her eyes travelled to his forehead. Acknowledging who he was, she shot him a very seductive smile. Harry grinned and cleared his throat awkwardly. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
“Venez avec moi Madame Granger et Monsieur Potter” commanded the witch, leading them through a door.  
They both gasped loudly. They had entered the Atrium of the French Ministry. The high ceiling was made of several huge glass cupolas not unlike the one they had seen while driving along the musée d’Orsay. The glass was adorned in black drawings of constellations, magical creatures and artefacts. It was stunning. Hermione was looking all around in awe.  
The french witch led them to a meeting point where an old wizard wearing sophisticated green robes and sporting a very long white mustache was talking to a small group of people.  
Harry and Hermione recognized their fellow Heads of Offices.  
“Ahhh! At last! We are now complete!” announced the old wizard joyfully, when Harry and Hermione joined the ranks of the British Ministry Heads.  
The tour of the french Ministry was quite boring. Aside from the venue itself, it was not very interesting to go from office to office and shake hands. Harry did his best not to roll his eyes at every person that tried to have a proper look at his scar.  
A rich, succulent late buffet lunch was served with the french Heads. There were petits fours and canapés, oysters and snails (which Harry bravely tasted), refined tarts with mushrooms, vegetables and cheeses, salmon and beef tartar and a variety of delicious wines. Harry soon found himself immersed in conversation with the french Head Auror, Martin Beaulieu. He had reddish blond hair and bright blue cheerful eyes that reminded him of Ron. A long thin scar was visible on his neck, starting by right his ear and disappearing under his shirt.  
His french accent was strong but he was quite fluent in english. Harry found out that he liked the man. They were around the same age and he seemed very moderate and muggle friendly. Appointed Chief only 2 years ago, he was the youngest Head of Department of his Ministry. In addition to their common beliefs, that was something he and Harry also shared.  
A bit further down the buffet, Hermione was talking animatedly in french with a couple of people from the French Magical Law Enforcement office. Harry admired her fluency in another language.  
Soon it was time to move to the conference room.  
Hermione seated next to Harry and grinned at him. She was clearly enjoying herself.  
The conference was interesting. The french Heads briefly introduced their Offices and staff and gave them their view on how to improve international collaboration. Harry listened (surprised that he did not find the whole thing boring) while Hermione was writing notes frantically.  
When it was over, the old wizard with white mustache got on the stage again.  
“I hope you enjoyed your day at our Ministry! We will meet tomorrow at 9 for our Workshops. In the meantime I must urge you to enjoy our beautiful city! The most wonderful and romantic city in the world! Paris IS magic! Do not hesitate to ask our welcome witch for recommendations on sightseeing and restaurants or to find your way to your hotel. Thank you and see you all tomorrow!” he concluded under a reasonable round of applause.  
A small chatter erupted in the room as everyone stood up and started to exit the premises.  
Their hotel was just a few streets away and Harry and Hermione walked and chatted with their fellow Heads of Departments in the cold Parisian air. Some intended to go straight to the Eiffel Tower, others (mainly the old ones) only wanted to lie down at the hotel.  
Hermione and Harry decided to drop their bags at the Hotel and then go to the Louvre.  
Their hotel was luxurious. The beautiful Hausmannian building opened between two ancient wooden doors with rich sea green velvet curtains on each side. A marble floor and an ornate golden mirror could be seen at the end of the lobby. By the lift, a dark stone sign indicated the indoor swimming pool and Jacuzzi downstairs. A very cozy salon was visible through an old glass door. Ancient and comfortable looking green and gold velvet armchairs were arranged around coffee tables. The walls were covered in mouldings and the chandeliers were luxurious. The light was cast almost exclusively from candles. A magnificent clock was towering the welcome desk. Harry glanced at Hermione, she was looking at the ceiling in awe. He grinned at her and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. He gently lead her towards the welcome desk, his hand on the small of her back.  
Once they got their keys, they left their traveling bags in the lobby and took the old iron elevator to the fifth floor. Hermione’s room was next to Harry’s. They both entered her room and Harry whistled appreciatively.  
The french Ministry had been generous to accommodate them in such a place.  
The walls of the room were covered in a rich golden tapestry. The curtains of the canopy bed were made of a deep purple velvet. A dozen of assorted pillows were arranged on the bed.  
The high window overlooked the impressive musée du Louvre on the other side of the Seine.  
“This is amazing” said Hermione in awe as she opened her bathroom door.  
Harry came closer and took a peek over her shoulder. The whole bathroom was made of marble and the shower was gigantic. Eight massage jets were aligned on the walls and a shower head the size of a plate was fixed to the ceiling.  
“You’re sure you still want to go to the museum?” asked Harry, chuckling.  
Hermione giggled and let herself fall on her luxurious bed, beaming.  
“Definitely”  
“Alright, I’ll leave you to unpack then. Let me know when you’re ready”  
Hermione was too busy admiring her room to answer, she just waved a hand in acknowledgment.  
Harry’s room was pretty much the same. Except his canopy bed had emerald green curtains. He thought of Ginny, how much she would love it and how pretty she would look laying on that bed. Smiling to himself, he unpacked his bag and changed, adding a few layers of clothing to face the cold.  
He heard a soft knock on his door a few minutes later indicating that Hermione was ready.

The Louvre was just on the other side of the Seine.  
The sky was pure white, teasing the Parisians with the idea of iminent snow.  
They walked to the river banks and over a bridge. It was quite narrow and protected by metallic fences on both sides. On each fence hung hundreds of locks, in all sizes and colors. Harry was wondering what it meant when Hermione answered his unasked question:  
“This is le Pont des Arts” she said, “It’s quite old and comes with an urban legend”.  
“Oh?”  
“Yes” she said, in a slightly dreamy tone, “The Parisians say that if two people hang a lock together to the fence and throw the key in the Seine, they are bonded for life”  
“Really?” smiled Harry, “Well that’s not romantic at all” he teased.  
Hermione grinned.  
“It’s Paris” she sighed dreamily, starting to walk towards the other end of the bridge.  
“Let’s do it!” Harry said, grinning at her.  
“What?”  
“Let’s hang a lock. Together! As best friends”  
Hermione laughed.  
“Harry, this is all nonsense, Paris is full of stupid legends” she said sardonically, “Although... the one about the Phantom of the Opera Garnier might be true…” she giggled.  
“Come one Hermione, it might be rubbish but it’s fun! And it’s a nice way to leave our mark in Paris and celebrate our… what? 25 years of friendship?” said Harry, smiling at her.  
She laughed at his eager face and only slightly rolled her eyes when he conjured a small golden lock.  
“Come on then” he invited her, finding a spot on the left fence.  
She joined him, an amused grin on her face. They hung the lock together on a fence hole. Harry took the key off and put it in Hermione’s hand. He stood beside her and gently lifted her arm over the fence. He counted to three and they let the key fall into the river.  
At the exact moment the key made contact with the water, a nearly imperceptible vibration rose from the bridge.  
“You felt that?” asked Harry, his brow furrowed.  
Hermione shrugged. “Come on Harry, we need to hurry if we want to have a few hours before the Louvre closes!”

The Louvre was a gigantic museum. Hermione dragged Harry from aisle to aisle, regularly gasping in awe and hardly containing excited shrieks. The egyptian wing made them think about Bill Weasley. The number of mysterious unopened ancient tombs and sarcophagus would drive him wild. They walked for hours in the museum, admiring Muggle and Wizard Arts in all forms.  
In the middle of one of the most ancient painting galleries, a small crowd gathered under a single frame. Hermione took Harry’s hand and lead him to join the crowd.  
“It’s Mona Lisa!” she whispered.  
Harry had heard of Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting before. But he was quite disappointed by the small size of it. He had imagined something bigger. Maybe that was the way fame worked. People imagine big things from famous people.  
Mona Lisa was playfully looking from side to side. The muggles, unable to see her eyes moving were no less captivated by her. She winked at Harry.

By the time they exited the museum, the sky was dark and the snow was finally falling thick. If possible, Paris was even more beautiful under the snow. The three glass Pyramids in the Louvre courtyard were covered in a thin layer of pure white. Hermione hooked her arm with Harry’s and they walked towards the banks again.  
They found a small, typical french bistro and were seated at a table in a far corner.  
The place was a perfect mixture of ancient and new. The smell was incredible. Truffles and warm baguettes. An intoxicating music was playing, made of seductive, suave feminine voices. Hermione seated on a comfortable bench seat in dark blue fabric and Harry on modern metallic chair in front of her. Their table was covered by an immaculate tablecloth and a single gold candle shone in the middle.  
“Look at the menu...” said Hermione, her mouth watering.  
They ordered the traditional Blanquette de Veau and a red Côtes de Beaune wine to a sullen but efficient waiter.  
It was delicious. And so was being here with Hermione, Harry thought. They were used to their frequent lunch breaks together at work, but it felt different and quite nice to be with her in Paris, and only with her.  
She was talking about their tour of the french Ministry, bombarding Harry with questions about the french Aurors when their cheese plateau arrived.  
Hermione, enthusiastically cut a slice of Brie and closed her eyes in bliss when she tasted it.  
“Hmmmm” she sighed.  
Harry watched her, amused and surprised by her reaction to cheese.  
She insisted he tasted all of them.  
“Try that one too, Brillat Savarin” she said, leaning over the table to feed him a slice of bread with a slightly creamy cheese on it. Harry bit on it, his tongue soon chasing after every last taste of it in his mouth.  
The french music was still playing and though Harry could not understand what it said, it made his head dizzy and his face warm. Or maybe it was the wine.  
Hermione was listening to the music too, silently enjoying her cheese, cheeks pink from the wine.  
“What does it say?” Harry finally asked.  
Hermione seemed to come out of a trance. Her eyes shot at his face.  
“The music, it’s in french, what does it say?” he asked again, grinning.  
She cleared her throat, looking a bit embarrassed.  
“It’s actually quite... naughty” she said.  
“Really? It does sound sexy, but those voices are really soft…”  
Hermione let out a small laugh.  
“French people are gifted to make crude words sound pretty” she smirked.  
“Come on, what does it say then?” Harry insisted, wiggling his eyebrows at her.  
Hermione giggled and listened intently to the next few sentences of the song before answering.  
“Well… it says… more or less “you’re my target, I’m the arrow aiming at your…. crotch” (her cheeks went a bit pink) “I want you to wake the beast in me” her voice faded as she listened to the next part. She cleared her throat, purposefully stopping her translation and blushing.  
“Well” he smirked, “It’s definitely as sexy as it sounds then” he teased, watching her long eyelashes on her cheeks while she looked anywhere but at him.  
He had never noticed before how her teeth toyed with her lower lip when she was blushing.  
It was quite adorable. Harry gave himself a little mental shake and took another sip of wine.  
When their desert was cleared, they paid for their dinner and prepared to face the snow again.  
The restaurant manager opened the door for them and said:  
“Bonne soirée les amoureux” before winking at them. Even with his very poor knowledge of french, Harry could not miss his meaning.  
Before either of them could correct him, the manager shut the door, protecting the bistro from the cold outside. Harry chuckled and took Hermione’s arm.  
They crossed le Pont des Arts again, glancing at their small lock amidst the others.  
“That was nice” Harry said.  
“Yeah, really good day, amazing food…” she confirmed. “I’m glad to be here with you Harry, I’m having a great time” she added, smiling warmly at him with sparkly eyes.  
“Yeah, it definitely is nice” he confirmed with a lopsided grin.  
He put his arm around her shoulders and they walked quietly to their hotel.  
They parted in front of their rooms after a quick hug goodnight.

ooo

Harry was swimming his tenth length. His body felt oddly awake even after such a long day.  
He had returned to his room earlier after saying goodbye to Hermione, only to find himself staring out the window, watching the snow fall, unable to sleep. He had then suddenly remembered the swimming pool and Jacuzzi downstairs. He was now enjoying the quiet of the empty cavernous swimming pool area as he turned once again under the water for another length.

When Hermione pushed the door of the swimming pool open, she was a bit irked to see that it was not empty. She had hoped for a quiet, relaxing, solo moment in the Jacuzzi.  
When she realized it was Harry swimming, she smiled to herself, watching him. Auror training and an avidity for Quidditch match in his garden every other day had done well on Harry. His body was moving fast, each of his breaststrokes made the muscles on his back undulate. It was quite hypnotic. Realising suddenly how strange she would look staring at him like that, she walked towards the Jacuzzi.

As if he had felt a presence, Harry stopped swimming, looked around and spotted Hermione. He grinned.  
“You, here?” he said, amused, swimming towards her at the edge of the pool.  
She smiled.  
“Yeah. Looks like we got the same idea”  
“It does. I couldn’t sleep, I needed to relax” he said, his elbows leaning on the edge of the pool. His hair was wet and messy. His naked arms glistening with water.  
She nodded, took her bathrobe off and got into the Jacuzzi. Her blue bikini was visible for a brief moment before she settled in the hot water and breathed a sigh of pleasure.  
“My idea of relaxing does not include exercising though!” she teased, glancing at the swimming pool. “This is sooo good” she added throatily, closing her eyes.  
She heard Harry get out of the pool in one swift motion.  
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, grinning. His towel was hanging loosely on his shoulder, his hair dripping water over his neck.  
“Sure” she smiled, watching him throw his towel on a bench.  
Harry entered the hot water and sat in the vacant bath seat facing Hermione, his arms comfortably resting outside the tub behind him, his naked chest half out of the hot water, his head fell back and he closed his eyes in bliss, exhaling slowly. The only sound in the cavernous room was created by the hot bubbles exploding at the surface. Hermione had her neck in the water, her damp hair wild around her face. She was watching him, a playful grin on her face.  
“What?” he asked, cocking his head.  
“Nothing” she said, biting her lip.  
Harry took a long breath and enjoyed the feeling of the hot bubbles massaging his body.  
“This is really good” he said “reminds me of the prefect’s bathroom”  
Hermione chuckled.  
“Oh right, I miss that bathroom” she said dreamily.  
“I miss Hogwarts” Harry answered, stating the obvious.  
“Well, I heard we are supposed to go there in May, for recruitment week?”  
“Oh yes, James and Al are already worried I might embarrass them” said Harry, a glint of mischief in his eyes.  
Hermione giggled and rose slightly from the water, leaning her arms on the edge of the Jacuzzi behind her.  
“I’m seriously thinking of sneaking up to the prefect’s bathroom during our breaks” she whispered, her eyes full of mischief.  
Harry laughed heartily.  
“Good idea, maybe I’ll go too”  
Hermione smiled and closed her eyes again, leaning her head back on the tub edge. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, allowing the hot water to relax her body.  
Her shoulders and the top of her wet chest was rising and falling slowly over the water with each breath. Her blue bikini top was not covering much skin.  
Harry was slightly hypnotized by the drops of steam or sweat slowly trickling down her neck, over her collarbone, and in the valley of her full breasts, into the water.  
The air was extremely warm and the bubbles were teasing Harry’s body.  
He felt Hermione’s foot accidentally brush his calf and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment they simply looked at each other. It was a long, deep, searching look. There was a strange quality to it. New, different and full of something more, something Harry could not name but seemed to send pleasant signals to his body. He gave himself a little mental shake and tore his eyes away.  
“Definitely too hot for me” he said, in a low voice, before slowly rising from the water.  
Hermione watched his back as he exited the hot bath. Hot water was dripping from his hair to his neck, sliding along his spine between his strong shoulders, running faster in the small of his back, disappearing on his swim trunks, that hung low on his hips, clinging to his bum.  
She felt her face flush as something stirred low in her stomach and redirected her eyes to look at the snow still falling through the window. It had started a few hours ago, Paris would soon be covered in a thick layer of snow.  
“Goodnight Hermione” said Harry, with a lopsided grin.  
“‘Night Harry” she mumbled back.

ooo

The next morning, Harry was awoken by what he could only presume was a storm coming into his room.  
“It’s all white! Look!” Hermione shrieked excitedly, “Look!” she said again, striding fast towards his window.  
Harry grinned sleepily, rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on.  
“Harry, you’ve got to see this!” Hermione chuckled from the window, “there’s a bunch of kids having a snowball fight! And a dog with shoes! Shoes, Harry! Oh, Ron would love that” she added, giggling.  
Throwing his covers aside, he hurried by her side, his shoulder against hers.  
“Merlin! A dog with shoes… Sirius would have hated it! French people are so weird…” he said shaking his head in disbelief.  
When they had both laughed their fill, Hermione turned to look at him. She suddenly became very quiet and put a little distance between them. Harry was in boxers. Only in boxers. Of course, he had been sleeping only two minutes ago. He raised his eyebrows at her when she blushed. Seeing him in boxers certainly wasn’t a common occurrence but they had shared a tent for months years back. And they usually spent their family holidays at the beach together. Still, it felt oddly intimate and inappropriate in the confines of that beautiful hotel room.  
“Well” she cleared her throat, “I’ll leave you to get ready, meet me downstairs for breakfast, yeah?” she said, already closing the door behind her before he could utter an answer.

Breakfast was another culinary delight. Their coffee was small but very intense and the croissants were so good that Harry ate three.  
“What?” he said when Hermione raised her eyebrows at him as he bit into his third croissant, “We’re going home tonight, when am I supposed to get some of those again?” he said indignantly. She rolled her eyes in amusement.  
They walked together to the Wallace Fountain again, automatically hooking their arms as the snow was crunching under their feet and falling thick on their heads. The city was very quiet. Parisians, it seemed, did not know how to function properly under a few inches of snow.  
Harry was paired up with Martin Beaulieu, the french Head Auror he had met the previous day for this morning Workshop while Hermione left for another room with two lawyers and the Head of the Justice Department. Harry watched her confidently walk away in the corridor, her hips swaying slightly.  
He shook his head and looked away wondering a bit worriedly what was going on with him lately, only to realize that Martin was watching him with a smirk.  
Harry cleared his throat and started asking questions about Auror training in France.  
The morning went by very quickly. Martin was a very nice and interesting man. They exchanged over their experience as Heads Auror, their methods of training and dealing with difficult cases.  
Martin also gave Harry a few advice on what to do in Paris to avoid the mass of tourists.  
By noon, they were all invited to join the main conference room again for the last speech.  
The same old white mustached wizard thanked them all for their visit and concluded the two-days seminar.  
“One last thing!” he added before dismissing them, “Those of you who came by plane won’t be able to fly back today. The airport is closed because of the snow”  
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other.  
“Of course you can apparate back to London but should you wish to wait for the next plane, it is my great pleasure to inform you that the french Ministry has extended your hotel booking until such time a plane is available!” he announced, beaming. “With the weekend ahead, I can only urge you to accept that invitation and enjoy Paris under the snow a little longer, it is both rare and beautiful!”

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked Hermione a few minutes later while they were all gathering their parchments and quills.  
“Well, the french Head of Justice has quite an old fashioned vision but her assistants are much more progressive…”  
“No, I meant about the plane!” laughed Harry.  
“Oh! Well, I guess we could just apparate back home” she said quietly, while fastening her bag.  
“Or… we could enjoy a little more of Paris in the snow…” Harry offered slowly.  
She smirked.  
“I thought you might be happy to avoid flying on a plane again”  
Harry laughed softly.  
“Yeah, well… it wasn’t that bad. And I kind of like Paris, don’t you?” he said, his heart beating inexplicably faster.  
Hermione seemed to hesitate before her face split into a radiant smile.  
“We could go to the Eiffel Tower… or take a boat on the river… oh, and I’m dying to see Notre Dame…” she enumerated dreamily.  
“Exactly!” said Harry, smiling, “And it’s all on the house, well the French house” he said smugly.  
She giggled.  
“Well in that case, we should write to Ron and Ginny” she simply said.  
They used two Ministry owls to send notes to their spouses. There was no way of telling when the next plane would leave but surely the snow would stop falling soon.

They found a take away bistro on their way from the Ministry to the Eiffel Tower. They ate their Croque Monsieur while waiting in the line to ascend the gigantic tower. The lack of planes delivering more tourists that day was a luck and the line moved quickly. Hermione had not complained about the stairs yet when they reached the first floor of the tower. But once Harry started ascending again, his feet fast and his body light, he heard her groan and pant and suppressed a grin.  
The second floor of the tower overlooked the whole of Paris. The view was spectacular. The city extended beyond their line of vision. The Seine looked like a snake, slithering through the streets and ancient buildings. Hermione pointed to several monuments, explaining what they were to Harry.  
The snow was still falling thick and it was very cold and windy up there. Harry could see Hermione shivering and tightening her scarf around her neck.  
“Too bad we can’t make one of your fire right now” he said, gently rubbing her back to create some warmth for her.  
She smiled gratefully and leaned into his chest.  
“I wish I could summon an extra sweater” she said through clattering teeth.  
“That wouldn’t be weird at all for the people down there” he chuckled.  
She grinned and leaned closer into him, watching the city under them. He wrapped his arms around her. They settled in a comfortable embrace, powered by their combined body heat.  
Hermione’s teeth had stopped clattering long before she finally pulled away.

They reached the bottom of the Eiffel Tower again and walked by the banks.  
“What do you want to do now?” asked Harry.  
“I really want to go see Notre Dame, and maybe grab some hot coffee on our way”  
The snow made their journey long and perilous. Harry had to hold Hermione back a few times when her feet slipped on the snow. At some point, she slipped dangerously close to the river. Her instinct made her grab Harry’s arm hard, unbalancing him fatally. He slipped and fell in the snow, unintentionally dragging her down with him, flat on his chest.  
“Are you okay?” she asked, grinning apologetically, still pinning him to the ground.  
Harry chuckled. His whole back was wet from the snow but Hermione’s face was priceless.  
“Better here than in the river” he said.  
She nodded gravely and started laughing. Her infectious laugh soon claimed him too.  
Feeling considerably warmer with Hermione’s body still on his chest, he grabbed her waist and helped her up.  
After that, he made sure to keep a firm hold on her arm for the rest of the journey.  
They finally reached the forecourt of Notre Dame, arm in arm. The bright stone facade was impressive in the late afternoon sunset light. The falling snow adding to the beauty of the scenery.  
The cathedral was already closed and Hermione looked a bit disappointed.  
“Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you” said Harry, suddenly taking her hand “It’s just a couple of streets from here”  
She raised her eyebrows at him, curious and happy to obey the pressure of his hand.  
He kept her hand until they reached their destination. When Hermione spotted the dark green facade of an ancient bookstore, she beamed.  
“Shakespeare and Company?” she read on the sign, squeezing his hand.  
“I thought you might like it” he answered simply.  
“Harry, I love it! Let’s go inside!” she said excitedly, dragging him towards the door.  
The shop was warm and the smell of old parchment invaded their nostrils. Hermione inhaled appreciatively.  
Wooden shelves were packed with old books and comfortable armchairs were arranged in every corner.  
Harry could not keep the smile off his face. Hermione was simply radiant. In her element. She was picking books after books from the shelves, her face concentrated when she read.  
The vision took him back, 20 years in the past, in the Hogwarts library.  
After a few minutes, Hermione took her winter jacket off and settled in an armchair with a book.  
Harry understood that as the cue that they would be staying for a while and he started exploring the shop.  
He walked the aisles randomly for a while until he found a beautifully illustrated kid story about Paris for Lily and went looking for Hermione again.  
She was on her tiptoes, trying to catch a book on the highest shelf. Her sweater rose a few inches when she extended her arm, showing the top of her hip and her belly. Her skin was diaphanous and smooth.  
She turned her head and caught Harry’s stare on her skin.  
“Would you help me?” she asked.  
Coming out of his trance, Harry hurried to get the book for her.  
“Thanks” she said, in a faint voice.  
He busied himself, absently grabbing a random book from a large pile in the nearest display stand.  
“Are you really going to read that?” she smirked, looking at the book in his hands.  
“Fifty shades of grey?” he read, oblivious. “Yeah, why not?”  
She sneered at him.  
“Do you even know what it’s about?” she asked, her eyes narrowed, barely suppressing a smirk.  
Harry read the back cover and chuckled.  
“Yeah, maybe not” he admitted, grinning sheepishly and putting the book back on the table while Hermione tried and failed not to laugh at him.  
Once Hermione was done buying half of the bookstore, night had fallen outside. The sky was uncommonly white, restlessly unloading snow over Paris.  
“I need to shrink these” she said absently, looking around for a secluded spot.  
She lead the way into a deserted narrow paved street and took out her wand.  
“Reducio” she whispered while Harry was shielding her from view against the wall and keeping an eye out.  
“Thank you Harry, it was a nice surprise” she said, a few seconds later.  
Harry turned around to face her. “Martin told me about that place, I thought you’d like it” he explained.  
She beamed at him again. They were very close, Hermione trapped against the wall by Harry’s taller body. She rose on her tiptoes and slowly kissed his cheek, brushing his ear with her mouth on her way. Their eyes met. That new and deep searching look was back again and Harry felt a strange sensation in his stomach, as if something dangerous but appealing was awakening in there.  
“Dinner?” he asked abruptly, clearing his throat.  
“Oh yes!” Hermione nodded fervently, taking his arm again. “I want more of that french food” she said with appetite while they walked randomly in the streets.  
They found a small restaurant, the sign read Nourriture bistronomique and it seemed to appeal to Hermione.  
Once they were settled in rich red velvet banquettes, Harry ordered a bottle of Champagne.  
“You know your way to my heart!” she joked, approving his choice.  
“I guess it’s probably our last night in Paris, we might as well do it well” he shrugged.  
The waiter poured them two glasses, one hand gracefully tucked behind his back.  
“To us” said Harry, raising his glass.  
“Us and our... what… 25 years of friendship? Gosh, we’re old!” she said, rolling her eyes.  
Harry chuckled.  
“Maybe, but you haven’t changed” he winked at her.  
“Why thank you Harry!” she smiled warmly.  
They drank and fell into easy, light conversation about their kids at Hogwarts. Harry’s honey duck breasts were delicious and Hermione ate every last bite of her royal sea bream. They kept talking and laughing, drinking champagne until the cheese arrived and Hermione ordered a bottle of Cote Rotie.  
Her cheeks were pink and she had discarded her sweater on the back of her chair. Her plain white blouse was v-neck and a thin golden chain disappeared somewhere behind the fabric, between her breasts. Harry wondered what pendant was at the end of it... He thought Hermione might have caught his stare again because her eyes were suddenly looking for his. She did not blush or scold him, she just focused on his eyes, her face serious and for once it looked like she had no words. It was so intense that Harry could only stare back in equal silence. It felt as if their eyes were communicating things that they could not or would not understand.  
After a while, Harry managed to look away, his mind racing over wild and out of place thoughts. Yet, by the way Hermione was suddenly faintly blushing, he wondered if she was struggling with her own thoughts too. Dessert was more quiet. Hermione seemed to be avoiding his gaze now and he tried not to let his eyes linger on her to often. There was something heavy in their silences that had never been there before.  
Once they had eaten their red wine and cinnamon poached pear, Harry insisted on paying the bill.  
“Come on, I’m happy to. You can buy our next meal” he insisted when she tried to object.  
“Thank you” she said, squeezing his arm gently.  
She left ten euros as a tip on the table and put her jacket on.

“Is it ever going to stop snowing?” asked Hermione quietly, two minutes later in front of the restaurant.  
The snow was still falling and was now as high as Harry’s knees. They had to cast impervious charms on their legs to keep them dry. The streets were almost deserted. The banks were slightly more protected from the snow and it was easier to walk there than in the narrow streets.  
Hermione shivered and tightened her jacket as they walked. The arm that was resting atop Harry’s moved to circle his waist as she leaned into his side.  
“That was lovely” she said, “But damn, it’s freezing”  
Harry took her hand. It was very cold. He gently brushed his thumb on her palm, her phalanges, until their fingers were untwined. The sound of an accordion playing was audible in the distance.  
They walked silently, hand in hand towards the music. Harry noticed how synchronized their paces were. As if they had been walking together their whole lives. It felt right, comfortable. Her hand was soft and warm in his while his thumb kept brushing her palm, sending waves of heat to her.  
Soon, they reached the origin of the music. A small group of people were dancing on the banks, their laughter echoing in the snowy sky. They walked past the dancers and Harry stopped to face Hermione.  
She laughed softly when he twirled her around, letting go of her hand only to hold her waist. She smiled and put her arms around his neck, the pair of them dancing soundlessly in the snow.  
She felt warm and comfortable in his arms. And something else... The music stopped and she looked at him. His emerald green eyes looked alight in the white night.  
That feeling, that unidentified feeling that had held their eyes locked together earlier was back. Only this time it seemed to affect their bodies too. Harry was feeling very aware of every spot of his body where it was in contact with Hermione’s. Something was different in the way she looked at him tonight too. It felt inviting, magnetic. Obeying to that strange pull, Harry leaned towards Hermione, their foreheads touching.  
He let his lips hover very close over hers, feeling her hot breath on his skin. Time froze. Hermione became utterly still, until even her breathing seemed to have stopped.  
Then, she slowly raised her hands to his hair and pulled him down gently to her lips.  
The contact was very light, soft and warm and lasted only a few seconds but Harry felt a vibration run through his body, from his lips to his toes as a thrill of magic went through him.  
It felt like holding his wand for the first time, that feeling of belonging to a greater power. He opened his eyes to look at Hermione, his hands slowly trailing to the small of her back. Her eyes were still closed and her lips parted as Harry felt a shiver going down her spine at his touch.  
“Let’s go” he said quietly, taking her hand again and directing them towards their hotel.

ooo

Hermione’s eyes were darting along the empty corridor as they reached her bedroom door.  
Without a word, Harry gently brushed snowflakes from her hair, his fingers lingering on her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb traced her lips.  
Hermione’s eyes locked with his, reflecting something between panic and that other, strong feeling hanging between them since the previous night. And suddenly, that feeling became very clear to Harry. It was want. As a primal part of his brain switched on, grasping with what his body and Hermione’s eyes were telling him, he kissed her.  
His eyes closed instantly as his mouth moved slowly against hers. One hand in her hair, the other on her waist. Her lips were soft and felt so incredibly warm. Excitement and fear invaded him, emptying his brains and arousing his body fast.  
As Hermione slowly pulled away, he gently bit her lower lip.  
“Harry… we can’t” she whispered.  
She looked scared and desperate and on the verge of tears.  
“I know” he said.  
“What are we doing?” she whispered, more to herself, sounding terrified.  
But then she lowered her gaze to his lips and he saw the desperation in her eyes ignite with desire. Despair and unconcealable desire. Without answering her, he slowly bent towards her lips again.  
This time, he returned to her lips greedily, making her gasp. His hands went to the sides of her face and he held her firmly as he probed her lips with his tongue, begging for entry.  
Her lips parted and he felt her tongue graze his. Hesitant at first, then demanding. Her taste filled his mouth and shut off his brain as his eyes rolled back. Soft, exquisite little sounds were escaping her throat. Powerful sounds that made Harry pin her against the door and kiss her deeper.  
“Harry...” she whimpered against his mouth.  
Panting, he pulled away, their foreheads touching. Harry took a deep, slow breath and looked at her.  
“Open the door, Hermione” he demanded in a deep, low voice.  
He heard her breath catch and she became utterly still, her forehead against his. Something incommensurably final was hanging between them for what seemed like an eternity, suspended to her next move.  
Then, she slowly turned the key behind her back, her eyes never leaving his.  
As soon as the “click” of the lock was heard, Harry leaned down to devour her neck. Hermione gasped loudly and suddenly her hands were all over his shoulders, his back.  
Somehow, the door had opened fully under their weights and they entered Hermione’s room, their mouths moving madly against each other’s, their tongues dancing.  
Hermione’s jacket was pulling at her feet before she realized it and she heard Harry kick the door close.  
His hands were firm and possessive on her waist, his mouth suckling on her neck.  
“This is wrong” she moaned as his tongue played with her earlobe. “So wrong” she cried when she felt one of his hand cup her breast.  
Harry pulled away, panting.  
“I know” he whispered again.  
His eyes were a darker shade of green, some animalistic quality in them. His mouth was ringed red and his hair messier than usual. Hermione felt irresistibly attracted to him, like a magnet to a metallic board.  
She bit her lip, took a deep breath and realised with terror that really she was so, so screwed.  
She crashed her body against his and started kissing him furiously. She could hear his groans as her tongue probed, caressed and danced with his.  
His hands found the buttons of her blouse, the clasp of her bra, the zip of her trousers as they kicked their shoes off. She sent his sweater and shirt pooling at their feet. Soon she was clad in her knickers while Harry was still wearing his trousers, his belt hanging open.  
Slowing down, lest he might lose his mind completely, Harry took a step back, seeing Hermione almost naked for the first time and any sense of sanity left in him disappeared instantly.  
“You’re so fucking beautiful” he said, biting his lip.  
Something went even darker in his eyes and Hermione felt the heat coming from him in waves, infecting her, radiating between her legs and making her body crave his touch.  
“Touch me, Harry” she asked in a whisper.  
Suddenly, his hands were everywhere again, exploring, adventurous while his tongue was back in her mouth. Her hands searched for his bum and she pushed his hips flat against hers.  
“Oh god” she moaned, feeling his hardness against her belly.  
Harry groaned at the contact even as he was licking his way down to her nipple, one of his hands slithered lightly over her underwear to her inner thigh, making her gasp.  
At this point, he pulled back again to kneel before her. Hooking his fingers on the side of her knickers, he looked at her and waited. Her eyes were dark and the for the first time in his life Harry saw what Hermione looked like when she surrendered completely to her desire. It was slightly intimidating but completely intoxicating. He waited for her to nod before he slowly pulled her knickers down to her feet. She raised one foot, then the other and she was naked for him. Grabbing her thighs gently, he leaned forward to kiss her stomach, just above her soft curls. She shivered.  
His eyes bore into hers as he rose to his feet.  
His hand went to gently caress her mound, the brown curls soft under his fingers before dropping lower, between her legs. Hermione whimpered and leaned into his touch as he kissed her again, his tongue intent on devouring her mouth even as his fingers kept massaging her clit through her lower lips. He felt her shift to open her legs slightly and he groaned when her lower lips parted under his fingers, her wet core so warm. Losing control, Harry pulled her impossibly closer and sucked on her pulse point.  
“You’re so wet for me…” he groaned in her ear when two of his fingers entered her.  
Hermione moaned and arched her back, lost in his touch. Her eyes shut close and Harry was supporting most of her weight. Her head was spinning, her breasts tingling. She could not have ran away even if she had wanted to. Because this was Harry. And it felt so fucking good, so fucking perfect. Illicit but inescapable.  
The room was full of her moans. She felt his thumb circle her clit and her eyes rolled back in her head. She could feel his rapid breaths in her neck while he sucked on her skin, his erection pressed hard on her belly, radiating heat. Harry’s erection...  
A wave of pure lust hit her and she reached out for his belt.  
He pulled away to get rid of his trousers and then they were on her bed. He had a mad glint in his eyes as he slid his boxers down. Hermione’s eyes slowly followed down the trail of dark hair starting on his stomach and licked her lips when they reached his cock. He waited for her to take a good look, his eyes dark and his face set, before climbing onto the bed.  
And then, he was on top of her, his hot naked skin touching hers for the very first time.  
“I want you so much…” he whispered against her lips.  
Hermione had lost the ability to talk but she nodded imperceptibly and something passed between them, like a vibration of hearts, linking their bodies and souls in that transcendent moment. It was like standing on the very edge of a high cliff.  
Then, his dark green eyes locked in hers, he entered her, making them both gasp.  
Sin and Perfection.  
“Fuck… fuck” Harry cursed, his eyes were closed tighlty “You feel so fucking good, so tight, so wet, so… I… fuck” he said incoherently before taking a deep shivering breath. He remained very still for some time, adjusting to her tightness and heat and the feel of her all around him, trying to regain some sort of control over this overload of sensations and feelings. Hermione. It seemed so unreal to be inside of her but at the same time it was very much happening.  
Hermione kissed his lips, muttering words of encouragement, stroking his cheeks, a tear running down her own.  
When Harry opened his eyes again to look at her she shuddered all over at those green orbs looking into her soul. And then she felt him move. All hesitation or fear gone, his moment of deep vulnerability replaced by experience and lust.  
Pleasure flooded their bodies as Harry pulled out almost completely before thrusting back slowly but firmly into her. Hermione moaned loudly. He could feel her tightness, her warmth and her wetness with increased sensitivity as he repeated his actions over and over again. He watched her face, the way her eyebrows were drawn together in pleasure, he could hear her voice making sounds he had never heard from her before. His mind was screaming to him this is Hermione, your Hermione. And he could feel all of her. Madness claimed him and he kissed her again, hooking her legs around his waist. He increased his rhythm, swept away by her moans. He couldn’t remember wanting someone as much as he wanted her right now. He felt a smirk forming on his face as Hermione squirmed and moaned under him and he drove into her harder.  
“Harry, oh God, Harry, yes!” moaned Hermione.  
The purple curtains of the canopy bed were soon moving around them as if a storm was raging inside the room. His groans were echoing around the luxurious room and he could feel Hermione clench hard around him, making him crazy, driving him over the edge too fast. He shifted his angle again, in an attempt to better control his pleasure before he exploded, intent of being present enough to make her come. His new angle seemed to do the trick. Breathing fast and barely hanging onto his sanity and rhythm, Harry watched as Hermione’s eyes shut. Her lips parted, a look of deep bliss on her face before she let out a long, liberating cry of ecstasy, all air leaving her chest as if pleasure overtook her need to breathe at this moment.  
Harry slowed down and watched her as she filled her lungs again before moaning loudly again in short, throaty “Oh Gods, oh gods, oh gods” as her walls clenched repeatedly around his cock.  
And it was the most fucking beautiful thing in the world. His own pleasure temporarily put aside to enjoy the view, he could tell he must look extremely aroused and smug. Harry waited for Hermione to come down from her height before kissing her, smiling against her lips.  
“So beautiful, you’re so beautiful” he whispered in her ear.  
When her breathing went back to an acceptable pace, he started pounding into her again, hearing the loud slaps of his pelvis against hers. Her eyes were on him now and he could feel his control slipping away with each thrust. Fighting to keep his eyes open and look at her, Harry felt a shiver run from his neck to his toes, his breath caught in his throat as he felt everything tighten between his legs and he growled in her ear as his own orgasm hit him with extreme force.  
“Fuck, oh fuck, Hermione” he rasped.  
He could tell she had been watching him but he could no longer do anything but try to breathe, Boneless, his body heavy on hers, he felt her hands lightly caress his back, her lips gently trail soft kisses along his jawline, his cheeks.

ooo

Hermione’s eyes were wide open, her back flush against Harry’s warm body. The night was still dark through the curtains. They had drifted to sleep at some point earlier, only to awake a few hours later, naked and huddled together in the beautiful canopy bed. Hermione’s silent tears were running down her face as Harry held her firmly. The enormity of what they had done seemed to have fallen on her. The enormity of what they had felt while doing it too complicated to analyze.  
There were no words strong enough to express how Harry felt. Or to soothe her.  
Sin and Guilt. And want.  
He could feel all his emotions putting his body into actions, leaving his brain to rest a bit longer, shutting down any negative emotion. For now.  
“I feel so good with you…” he whispered in her neck, “so fucking good…” he rasped, tightening his hold on her. Feeling insane but chasing every last drop of it, Harry pressed his erection against her arse.  
Despite her tears, he felt her slowly arch her back against him.  
His hands travelled to her thigh, caressing her gently. His mouth trailing warm kisses along her shoulder. He could see her pretty breast and rolled a nipple between his fingers, making Hermione moan. He pushed his cock harder against her arse and she moaned again, parting her legs slightly.  
“No one can ever know…” she whispered.  
“They won’t” he promised in a growl as he entered her again, his teeth grazing her shoulder blade.

The white light of the snowy sky was slowly illuminating the room. Their exhausted bodies had rested for a few hours. The comfort and warmth Hermione felt in Harry’s arms was overwhelming as she was kissing him, slowly, lazily, her tongue soft and gentle. His deep, low groans were reverberating at her.  
“I want to taste you” he growled into her mouth.  
Harry heard her breath catch in her chest but already her legs were parting, seductively slowly.  
His heartbeat was racing in excitement as his tongue travelled along her neck to her breast, licking and sucking on her nipples. He wanted all of her. He needed all of her. He was insane but now was not the time to investigate that feeling. Not yet. Enjoying the taste of her sweet sweet skin, his mouth travelled down her body, nipping and biting lightly while she squirmed under his attention.  
Lavishing his tongue one last time around her navel, his mouth trailed south to level with her gorgeous, wet center. His cock twitched at the sight. She was delicious looking with her dark pink inner lips and her wetness glistening invitingly. Harry licked his lips and nuzzled her clit. Hermione’s body tensed at the contact and she gasped. Harry grinned against her core. He wanted to hear her come again. He wanted to feel her come again.  
Harry slowly ran his tongue from her opening to her clit, stopping to enjoy her throaty moan of pleasure. He repeated his actions several times, eliciting frustrating moans from her every time he paused. Taking her by surprise, he suddenly latched his lips around her clit and sucked. Hermione hissed and her lower back rose from the bed. Looking smug, Harry began to lick around her clit, avoiding direct contact with it for now. He could tell he was driving her crazy because he never imagined she could make such sounds. She had been expressive last night for sure but he was in so much physical pleasure himself at the time that he felt he might have missed some of her best noises.  
There was nothing like it. Fierce Hermione, giving herself completely to him, expressing her pleasure in wild moans and cries. Holy Merlin but she was cursing more than he had ever heard her before his entire life! And yet she left him set the pace, surrendering to his teasing.  
Feeling intoxicated by her sweet taste, Harry dove his tongue inside her, firm but gentle. He could feel her juices invading his mouth and his cock was getting painfully hard from it.  
Hermione’s legs started to shake.  
“So fucking delicious...” he rasped from between her thighs.  
His voice made her whimper. He cast her one last deep, hungry look and disappeared between her thighs again, going straight for her clit.  
She could not take her eyes off Harry’s dark hair between her legs. So wrong but so fucking hot. Harry. Hermione was lost, lost in her own pleasure and arousal for him. His tongue was slow and gentle at first. Then it became hard and purposeful and her hips jerked. He sucked noisily at her clit and she hissed through her teeth. Harry. Two fingers entered her and her head fell back on the pillow. Heavy and dizzy. The pumping of his fingers and the dance of his tongue pushed Hermione over the edge within blissful minutes. When she orgasmed, he dutifully kept licking her until her thighs closed hard against his head in a last spasm. She was still shaking when his erection slid into her.  
Harry could barely hold back. Hermione’s taste was still on his tongue and her soft, tired moans made him ache for his release. She looked at him, want and wildness in her eyes, and it was the most beautiful and arousing thing in the world.  
But suddenly Hermione was pushing him off, shifting their positions until she was straddling him, his cock buried deep inside her.  
Harry felt a grin split his face as she looked down at him, her desire burning in her eyes. Her body was beautiful and perfect on top of him in the morning light. The vision of her full breasts above him was stunning. Then she leaned down to kiss him, her tongue chasing her own taste in his mouth. Shooting him a coy smile he had never seen her wear before, she started rocking her hips at an excruciating slow and torturous pace. Harry’s smirk dissolved fast and she could see the desperation in his eyes as he ached for his release.  
“Oh god, keep doing that” he said, his voice unstable.  
His eyes were hungrily sweeping over her face, her breasts as she slowly rode him to orgasm.  
She had never even dreamt of seeing him look at her that way. Harry’s dark green eyes full of lust and ecstasy... It was beyond exquisite and she wanted to see him lose control.  
If it wasn’t for the fact that he had already come twice within the last 7 hours, Harry would have lost it completely right now. Her eyes were greedy as she slowly rocked back and forth, back and forth, teasing him. Harry did his best to let her control the pace but Merlin it was hard. She was taking her sweet revenge for his teasing and it was so fucking hot.  
He resisted the temptation to hold her down and fuck her hard for as long as he could. His hands were roving over her body, squeezing her arse, massaging her breath.  
“You’re fucking killing me” he panted, smiling between gasps.  
She smiled seductively at him.  
“What are you gonna do about it?” she teased.  
Harry growled.  
“Careful witch” he warned, biting his lower lip and feeling his self control slipping away.  
She laughed breathlessly, never stopping the slow rocking of her hips.   
It was amazing to see her in charge and smug like that even if it made him want to do unspeakable things to her right now.  
“What is it Harry? Afraid to let go? Just give it to me…” she said, her eyes locked with his.  
Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes growing wide. Fucking hell, he could never have imagined Hermione would be like that in bed. He fucking loved it! She was in bed as she was in life actually: fierce, passionate and competitive. This was pure Hermione. Her wild side in the best of possible way.  
Leaving his befuddled thoughts behind him he gripped her hips firmly.  
“I’m going to put you on your stomach and fuck you into the matress” he told her.  
She moaned and clenched her inner walls at his words and it was all it took for him to put his words into action.  
It wasn’t tender. It was harsh and fast and loud. True to his words, Harry trapped Hermione on her stomach under his weight, pinning her hands over her head.  
He slid his cock between her arse cheeks until he found her slick entrance. He ground his hips against her arse a few times, slowly, just to tease her some more before he lost it completely.  
Harry was getting wild and Hermione loved to see this part of him again. She had seen him acting on instinct all his young life but it was so rare nowadays. There he was, taking what he wanted, how he wanted it and it felt amazing. She lost herself under his wild rythm, trusting him completely.  
Everything became blurry after that.  
“Oh God, yes, Harry, yes! Harder!”  
Harry could barely hold back anyway. He pounded into her, making her arse cheeks redden with each slap of his pelvis.   
Soon, Hermione gave up any kind of control she might still hold and simply bit into the pillow as her orgasm shook her. Harry followed her instantly, barely aware of his own roar echoing in the room.

ooo

Harry stood by the window, watching the deserted white banks along the river. The sun was high but hardly visible in the angry white sky.  
He glanced at Hermione. She was soundly asleep on her stomach, her back rising slowly with each of her quiet breathes. Looking back at the window, his eyes lingered on the snow falling in fast twirls. The weather had turned into a snow storm. There would be no plane today. Harry sighed. Paris was trapping them into their own folly. Allowing them, encouraging them to sin.  
Never in his life had Harry imagined he would cheat on his wife. Never in his life had Harry imagined he would fuck Hermione again and again and again like he could never get enough of her, like their bodies were made for each other’s. Like he had been craving her all his life but never realised it before. How could they have done that? Why had they opened that pandora box of sin? Why did it feel so fucking good?  
He knew their guilt was swimming dangerously close to the surface, threatening to drown them at any moment.  
And yet, neither of them had suggested to apparate home.  
Harry suddenly noticed that Hermione’s slow breathing was gone. He turned around and saw her staring at him. How long had she been looking at him silently? He stared back. Maybe she saw the desperation and guilt in his eyes because suddenly she was moving towards him, a thin white sheet trapped under her arms. She held him in a firm but gentle hug, whispering soothing words in his ear. Her own tears were trickling down her face as they comforted each other. Both equally victim and guilty.  
After what felt like hours of a warm embrace, Hermione broke apart and took his hand. Silently, she lead him to the bathroom and ran the water.  
The steam was obscuring the mirror by the time they entered the shower together.  
Hermione directed the stream of hot water on Harry’s body, gently rubbing his arms, his back, his chest, his stomach. The smell of rose soap invaded their nostrils. Her hands were sliding on his skin with such tenderness that he soon felt lighter, momentarily at peace.  
But Harry’s body was already reacting to the vision of a naked and wet Hermione.  
She felt it against her hip before she saw it. And then she was kissing him, a slow, languorous kiss as her hand grabbed his erection. He felt himself harden between her smooth, wet fingers.  
She pulled away, to look in his eyes. He could not read her. Or maybe he wasn’t sure he was reading her right, his brain had stopped working again. But she made it clear when she knelt in front of him.  
Harry sucked a breath through his teeth when he felt her tongue slowly circle the tip of his cock.  
He leaned back against the shower wall, the jets of water massaging his back.  
Hermione took his whole length into her mouth, her tongue driving him crazy way too fast. His low groans sounded loud in the enclosed shower, mingled with Hermione’s tiny suckling sounds. His fingers went to her hair as heaps of pleasure invaded him.  
“Fuck... Hermione” he hissed.  
He shot a glance down at her and nearly lost control. She was looking at him, his cock sliding in and out of her hot, wet mouth. Harry could not remember seeing anything as sexy as this, ever. He growled. They both knew how close he was. He tried to gently push her back but she held him firmly.  
“I want to taste you too” she said.  
“Fuck…”  
Harry surrendered. His head fell back against the wall. He tried to control his jerking hips but soon he was thrusting into her mouth, trying hard not to choke her. Hermione’s head was bobbing over his cock, her cheeks hollowed.  
Harry let out a low whine when he came, filling her mouth with his come, his fingers clenching in her hair as she swallowed dutifully until he was spent.  
His legs were still shaking when he felt Hermione mouth on his neck. He opened his eyes.  
“You’re fucking amazing” he panted, unable to suppress a lazy grin.  
They washed each other thoroughly, hands lingering on forbidden spots. Looks and smiles conveying more meaning than words.  
“We need food” said Hermione once they were both in bathrobes.

ooo

The next 24 hours went in a haze. As the sun rose again, snow was still falling, but lazy and thin.  
The smell of sex in the room was intoxicating. Some time after their fifth round, Harry had simply stopped thinking altogether. Only a feeling of perfection and his pure lust for Hermione had remained. They slept and fucked and ate. And then they fucked and slept and fucked again. They touched and smiled and moaned but barely talked. Some sort of silent tacit agreement seemed to have occured. Sex in Paris. Then we go home, back to Ron and Ginny. Back to being friends. As if nothing ever happened. And never a word about it.

  


The hotel stationary card was lying on the table. Their plane would take off in four hours.  
Hermione brought her coffee to her lips. She was looking at the snow, thinning on the ground outside.  
Harry could sense the change in her this morning. She was very quiet and pale.  
“This is the most horrible thing I’ve ever done” she simply stated in a sad voice.  
“I did not plan this either you know” he answered quietly, watching her.  
She nodded.  
“We are going to carry that burden forever” she said, a tear running down her face.  
Harry cupped her cheek and wiped her tear away with his thumb.  
“I will never forget… And I don’t want to” he whispered, slowly.  
Time before their flight was getting scarce. It was almost over.  
Harry leaned down and kissed her. She sighed and kissed him back. The taste of coffee was bitter on their tongues but her hands were moving extremely gently in his hair, as if she was trying to engrave the feel of it in her memory forever.  
“We can never tell anyone...” she whispered as Harry pinned her against the cold window.  
“This belongs to us, only us...” he confirmed, tugging at her bathrobe belt.  
“And this is the last time... “ she whispered as Harry turned her around, pushing her naked breasts flat against the freezing window.  
He pinned her hands to the glass and pushed himself hard into her. She gasped for air, her body trapped between the window and Harry’s slow, forceful, desperate thrusts. The snow had stopped falling.  
A moan escaped her throat.  
“This… is… the… last… time…” panted Harry between hard thrusts as if to sink the words into his own lust-addled brains.  
She could see the empty, white streets below. A thin mist covered the window every time she moaned.  
The whole of Paris could see them if they were watching now. But no one would ever know.

Hermione was crying silently as she paid for Ron’s macarons Ladurée at the counter of the airport. As the plane took off, she did not reach for Harry’s hand but her head fell on his shoulder and he closed his stinging eyes as he gently stroked her cheek.  
They exchanged a last look before disapparating to their respective homes, their eyes were full of tenderness and loss.  
A look that conveyed what they both knew: It’s ours, no one can ever know.

Fin.


End file.
